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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27105433">libraries are for hell demons (and cute accountant types)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingtheobsessedlife/pseuds/livingtheobsessedlife'>livingtheobsessedlife</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Parks and Recreation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Library, Don’t think too hard about how this fits with canon okay, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Leslie loses a bet and has to work at the library basically, Librarian Leslie Knope, or more like lovers to enemies to lovers again</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:09:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,242</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27105433</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingtheobsessedlife/pseuds/livingtheobsessedlife</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Excuse me, m’am?” Leslie’s first, soon-to-be-miserable patron approaches her. She’s shelving a cart of nonfiction. Purposefully, she shelves a book meant for the 316’s somewhere in the 641’s. It’s what the library deserves. She turns around, fighting the sly smile she gets when she causes mischief.</p><p>“Yes?” She snaps, clutching an oversized book under her arm.</p><p>“Oh,” The man startles, “Sorry, I thought you worked here.”</p><p>“Actually, I do.”</p><p>“You… do?”</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“Then why are you wearing a pin that says ‘I Hate Libraries’?”</p><p>Leslie shrugs, “Because I do.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Leslie Knope/Ben Wyatt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>libraries are for hell demons (and cute accountant types)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I started writing this a year+ ago when I still worked at the library and I miss working there finishing this up was so cathartic haha</p><p>this is my first full parks and rec fic and tbh ben/Leslie will always be one of my favorite pairings this was so fun I need to write more parks and rec ff</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On Leslie’s first day working at the library, she decides to make the entire experience as miserable for every person she comes in contact with at that hell site as it is for her.</p><p>“Excuse me, m’am?” Her first, soon-to-be-miserable patron approaches her. She’s shelving a cart of nonfiction. Purposefully, she shelves a book meant for the 316’s somewhere in the 641’s. It’s what the library deserves. She turns around, fighting the sly smile she gets when she causes mischief.</p><p>“Yes?” She snaps, clutching an oversized book under her arm.</p><p>“Oh,” The man startles, “Sorry, I thought you worked here.”</p><p>“Actually, I do.”</p><p>“You… do?”</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“Then why are you wearing a pin that says ‘I Hate Libraries’?”</p><p>Leslie shrugs, “Because I do.”</p><p>“That’s… fair. I think?”</p><p>“It totally is.”</p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>They stare at each other for a weirdly long time. </p><p>“Does that mean that you can help me find the book I’m looking for then?” He asks, eyes flitting to that ostentatious button of hers, “Even though you hate libraries, I mean.”</p><p>She grins again, just as sly and meaningful as the last time, “I do work here,” She says, and decides that she can make an exception for this totally reasonable guy. She smiles and leads him out of the aisle, “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but come on.”</p><p>/////</p><p>That was the first and only productive day of work she has over the two introductory weeks of working at the library. Every chance she gets, Leslie attempts some demarcation of sabotage against the institution. Something about sticking it to the pretentious, arrogant proverbial man/librarian. They totally deserve it either way. Libraries. Ha. </p><p>She’s attempting to disorganzie the biographies the next time that he shows up.</p><p>“You’re back,” She says, a hand on her hip. She shakes her head at him. </p><p>“Yep, that’s the thing about libraries, you see. You usually have to come back after a given period of time unless you want to get fined.”</p><p>She glares at him, “Yeah, well, did you know that libraries are stupid?”</p><p>He smiles at that, a happy little thing that he badly hides by looking down at his shoes and it’s ridiculously adorable for somebody voluntarily spending their free time at a stupid library, “I did know that actually. Thanks.”</p><p>Leslie picks up the nearest biography, something about a marine biologist turned con man turned drug kingpin turned pet store owner, and sticks it somewhere random on the shelf. On second thought, she might not even be in the biographies. Ha. Sucks. She glances at him over her shoulder, pulling out the book end and pushing it tightly back into place, “You turned in your book and <i>chose</i> to come back? Big mistake, Mr Stranger Library-Goer. Tsk, tsk.”</p><p>“It’s Ben actually.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I don’t usually go by Mr Stranger Library-Goer. My name’s Ben.”</p><p>“Oh,” Leslie says. She’s only ever known one other Ben, a popular kid in her sophomore homeroom ten years back. She hadn’t liked that guy (he was kinda- totally- a douche), but she thinks this Ben doesn’t seem like the other one, “Nice name.”</p><p>“It’s pretty common.”</p><p>Leslie scans the shelves before her- some of her badly shelves biographies are blatantly interspersed throughout them- and after looking for a long moment, she pulls out a book.</p><p>“<i>Ben</i>.” She declares, inexplicably. She shoves the book into his hands and he looks down at it. Slowly, a grin finds its way onto his face. </p><p>The chosen book’s title is ‘Ben Franklin and All of His Women: A Historical Figure’s Affair With His Nether Regions.</p><p>“If you’re allowed to pick books out for me purely based on my name then I think I should get to know yours, Miss Librarian-That-Hates-Libraries.”</p><p>She raises her eyebrow at his rather uncreative approach to her little nickname, but smiles anyway, wraps her fingers around the edge of the empty book cart beside her, “My name’s Leslie,” She says, then pushes off toward the back to get more books.</p><p>///////</p><p>She’s standing in the middle of the AV section, pointedly doing nothing helpful, when she looks up and sees Ben the next time. </p><p>He’s in a nonfiction aisle again, this time with a crumpled little piece of paper in his hand with some Dewey decimal code on it, no doubt. He’s staring at that piece of paper like it personally affronted him, his nose all scrunched up as if the Dewey decimal system was made up of hieroglyphs and he didn’t understand them which- <i>He probably doesn’t</i>, Leslie thinks, <i>It’s a stupid system</i>. </p><p>She approaches him quietly. She thinks that somebody over in the DVD’s had asked her to look for something but eh, whatever. </p><p>“Ben!” She blithely cries, as she sidles into his aisle, “Whatcha lookin for now? Another book? Really? I expected better sense out of you.”</p><p>Ben blanches, only a little, then slowly smiles, “It’s not for me.”</p><p>“Oh,” Leslie says, because that certainly sounds like a girlfriend kinda situation, not that she even really knew this guy at all but- “Okay.”</p><p>Ben’s eyes grow minutely in this startlingly bug-like and adorable way then he backtracks, “I mean not for- Actually, I was looking for a book for you.”</p><p>“For me?” Leslie is admittedly surprised.</p><p>“You picked one out for me. Figured I should return the favor.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Unless you think that’s super weird and you’re gonna call the police on me in which case-“</p><p>“What book are you gonna give me?”</p><p>Ben all but blushes, looks down at the piece of paper crumpled in his hand, “It’s called An Antholgy of Leslie: Every Leslie in History Anthologized”</p><p>Leslie can’t help but grin, “That sounds like the most boring book I’ve ever heard of.”</p><p>Ben blanches, “Oh, I was just thinking that-”</p><p>“C’mon,” She interrupts him, “Let’s go find it.”</p><p>“But you said it sounds boring?”</p><p>“So?” Leslie says, stealing away his little piece of paper and wandering farther down the aisle, “I bet that Ben book was all but insufferable.”</p><p>He’s quiet for a moment, Ben’s neat leather shoes shuffling against the gross blue carpet that lines the space between the shelves, “Yeah, it was pretty… awful.”</p><p>“Of course it was,” Leslie says, stretching out on her tiptoes to reach for a book on the top shelf, “You got it from the library. There’s no way it was ever gonna be good. Here it is.”</p><p>She shows him the book, a massive paperback edition with teensy-weensy font, flimsy pages, and a nearly blank cover that looks like the project of a high school graphic design course. </p><p>It really does look insufferable.</p><p>“Oh, that does look like an incredibly boring book,” Ben says, wincing. He rubs at his neck, “Sorry.”</p><p>“What did I tell you?” Leslie grins, clutching the book to her chest, “Libraries really are the worst.”</p><p>Before she goes home from work that night, Leslie checks out the first book she’s ever gotten from the library. It really is the worst book. She reads it from cover to cover anyway. </p><p>///////</p><p>Ben comes by again a week later, and Leslie’s in the middle of organizing the holds by the front counter. She doesn’t see him coming.</p><p>“Leslie?” He says, tapping her on the shoulder, “Are you doing actual work?”</p><p>She glares at him, her face all scrunched up in disgust, “I was threatened into this.”</p><p>Ben looks weirdly… enamored, chuckles under his breath. Leslie sets down a stack of books to look at him, “What’s up? You aren’t here to get another book, are you? You didn’t get one last time, I know for a fact, so you can’t use the returning excuse anymore, Ben. You’ve got nothing else to say, do ya?”</p><p>There’s that sly smile again. Mischief and libraries go so well together.</p><p>“Actually,” He says, “I came to see you.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Turns out there was one more excuse. A good one, too.</p><p>“I hope that isn’t weird. My friend Chris has been bugging me to talk to you before we leave or you disappear or something happens because that’s exactly my kind of luck and he’s started threatening me with paperwork- and not the fun stuff, the annoying stuff- and I know that we really don’t know each other at all but we have the whole thing with the books going and I just think it’d be really cool if we-”</p><p>“Do you want to get waffles with me sometime?”</p><p>“-went and got coffee sometime.” </p><p>Leslie beat him to the punch. Of course she did. </p><p>“Yes,” They agree at the same time. An overweight mom reaches her arm directly between them to get to her hold, so Leslie grabs a hold of Ben and tugs him closer to the video game shelves, away from the heavy foot traffic, “I get off work at four,” She says, “If you want to do something today.”</p><p>Ben can’t help but grin, “That sounds great. I can meet you somewhere.”</p><p>“There’s this place not far from here, JJ’s Diner- best place in Pawnee. I can meet you there. If you tell them you’re meeting me, they’ll set you up with a booth.”</p><p>Ben’s brow raises, a silent chuckle curving the corner of his lip, “They must really like you there.”</p><p>“You have no idea.” </p><p>Ben doesn’t blame them. </p><p>“Alright,” Ben says as he backs away from the shelf, smiling ridiculously, “I’ll see you then, Leslie.”</p><p>Leslie’s so excited that she doesn’t even bother trying to screw with the order of the video games while she’s there, just gets back to work completely gruntled and weirdly at ease. She’s never felt like this in a library before. Hell, it’s been so long since she’s felt anything like this even at a non-hellsite. </p><p>Leslie doesn’t even look twice when one of Tammy’s minions heckles her from the front desk. She counts down the minutes until 4. </p><p>//////</p><p>After Leslie’s gigantic plateful of waffles and whipped cream (she had called it ‘the usual’ to their waiter, who’d grinned happily before scurrying away to put in their orders) comes to the table, Ben shuffles his fork between his hands. Leslie dives right into her food. </p><p>“You know,” Leslie says with waffle in her mouth, “I can totally see the book you got. You aren’t hiding it very well.”</p><p>She grins, he blushes. It’s nothing new.</p><p>The book in question resides in Ben’s bulky messenger bag, though its corner sticks out obtrusively. Ben had picked it up after making their plans. It was a rather impulsive check-out. High off the feeling of a yes, he’d decided to give it a shot and get the book he had been considering getting for the past couple weeks. Ben was rather excited to read it. That didn’t stop him from blushing profusely.</p><p>“How do you know I got a book from the library and not a book store. What if it’s just paperwork, huh? You don’t know!”</p><p>Leslie just looks at him pointedly, brow raised. She doesn’t need to say anything.</p><p>She’s made him weirdly defensive when it comes to library books. She’s ruined him for that. He can no longer in good conscience check out a book without at least second guessing himself first. </p><p>“Okay,” Ben finally says, rooting around in his messenger bag, “But don’t make fun of me, okay?”</p><p>“I won’t,” Leslie promises, taking another forkful of waffle into her mouth as she watches him struggle for the book in question. </p><p>Ben pulls out a compact little book, a pale yellow cover with elaborate red banners and fancy white lettering revealing what’s inside: The Complete Guide To Writing Fantasy, Alchemy With Words.</p><p>Leslie doesn’t even try to fight the mischievous grin, “Really? You’re a writer?”</p><p>“Hey! You promised you wouldn’t mock me!”</p><p>“I’m not!” Leslie asserts, but she totally is, the way she’s hiding her mouth with her fork, “It’s cute! I didn’t take you for the fantasy writer type is all.”</p><p>“I’m not- well, usually I’m not. I would like to be, I just don’t have the time. Or the confidence I guess yknow. But I’ve always wanted to and November’s coming up-“</p><p>“November?” Leslie asks, and Ben entirely <i>beams</i>. He sets his fork down to smile up to her and animatedly continue for Leslie’s sake.</p><p>“November is national writing month, it’s a whole big thing, people all around the world participate! From November 1st until the 30th people get together to encourage each other to write a little bit every day until they’ve written 50,000 words.”</p><p>“So you’ve written a novel before?”</p><p>“Well, no… I’ve tried, but it’s hard. But this time I’m feeling lucky,” His eyes sparkle. It might be the dorkiest thing Leslie’s ever heard, but she can’t stop staring at his effervescent expression as he gushes about his new project, “I’m so excited to get started.”</p><p>God, he’s such a nerd. Leslie doesn’t understand why she actually finds that so goddamn sexy. She tosses her fork between her hands, syrup dotting her bottom lip. </p><p>“Tell me about your story then.”</p><p>Ben lights up. </p><p>When he’s done with the whole fantastical explanation, Leslie’s admittedly completely lost. It’s a very complex storyline- and <i>boring</i>, too. But the look on Ben’s face, all light and at ease, makes her just smile and nod, “That sounds awesome, Ben!” She tells him, even though she isn’t usually one for pulling her punches. </p><p>Ben looks proud as he picks his fork up again and digs into his food. A weirdly easy silence settles over them, Ben growing pensive as Leslie starts to babble herself. </p><p>/////</p><p> </p><p>“Can I ask you a question?” Ben says only after several long moments of obvious internal deliberation. </p><p>She nods as she swallows a hefty mouthful of whipped cream. There’s a small white dab stuck on her upper lip. </p><p>“How did you end up working at the library if you hate it so much? And honestly how come you haven’t gotten fired yet?”</p><p>Leslie grins like all else. If you took her usual sly grin and exploded it, you’d get this mischievous monstrosity. </p><p>“Technically I’m the deputy director of the Pawnee Parks and Recreation department,” She tells him, waving her fork around animatedly, “But I pissed off my boss and now I have to suffer through six months at the library.”</p><p>Ben snorts incredulously, “What could you possibly have done to get sent to the library?”</p><p>“I threw him a surprise party.”</p><p>“You’re being punished with your worst nightmare for throwing a party?”</p><p>“A <i>surprise</i> party, Ben. It was my own fault.”</p><p>“Okay, I’m just not going to dig that far into that, but then how come you haven’t been fired yet?”</p><p>“My boss’s hellish ex-wife is a librarian and Ron promised her that he’d actually read a fictional book that isn’t about navy men if she doesn’t fire me. It was too big of a challenge for her to resist and now I’m stuck at the site of my nightmare everyday.”</p><p>“Well, that’s… there’s no one like you, Leslie,” Ben says suddenly, a small smile on his lips, “You’re one of a kind.”</p><p>Leslie squirms minutely, jabs her fork into waffle, “Is that a compliment or a-?”</p><p>“Oh, that’s a compliment,” Ben says quickly, and Leslie feels her face burn. She never gets like this, seriously, “I’m sorry if I’m being so forward. I don’t meet a lot of people that are genuinely interesting.”</p><p>“Speaking of meeting people,” Leslie says, half a mouthful of waffle, “You never told me what it is you do.”</p><p>“Oh it’s really boring honestly.”</p><p>“Ben, I work at a <i>library</i> right now. Whatever you do, it isn’t worse than that.”</p><p>Ben smiles, pushes a sausage link around his plate with his fork so it’s swimming in maple syrup without making a move to eat the offending piece of meat, “I’m a state auditor,” He says quietly, “Which means I review budgets when a government goes bankrupt. I’m the guy that-“</p><p>Leslie freezes, fork halfway to her mounts, “Wait don’t tell me that you’re <i>that</i> Ben?”</p><p>“Um, maybe?”</p><p>“Ben Wyatt?”</p><p>Ben’s quiet. Dammit. </p><p>Leslie rather calmly (okay so not very calmly, she maybe knocks a spoon off the table in the process, but calmly enough) sets her fork down beside her plate and glares at him, “You’re the Ben that’s been ruining my life for the past month.”</p><p>Ben’s face falls, but he doesn’t say anything. </p><p>“If I were at the parks department, Ben Wyatt, you’d be rueing the day, I’m telling you. I may not be there for the time being, but I have ears everywhere. Everywhere. I know what you’re doing, closing parks and cancelling events. It’s a disgrace.”</p><p>“Excuse me,” Ben says, face suddenly hard. He puts down his fork, too, “But it’s not my fault that your government went bankrupt.”</p><p>“Yeah, But it is your fault that Freddy Spaghetti had to cancel and that the parks department isn’t able to do anything anymore. That’s on you. I’m doing everything I can even from three blocks away from town hall to make sure you don’t ruin absolutely everything, Ben Wyatt, and you’re making it pretty damn hard.”</p><p>Her face is all red and if she hadn’t been directly insulting Ben, he probably would’ve found it pretty cute. </p><p>“So does that mean that you’re the Leslie Knope that’s been harping me about citizens rights or whatever?”</p><p>“I would hardly say <i>harping</i> you. Employing my right to have a voice in government maybe.”</p><p>“Oh my god, it <i>is </i>you.”</p><p>They stare at each other, there’s nothing left to do. Leslie’s chest is heaving minutely. </p><p>“I don’t think I can be friends with the person who is single handedly ruining the best department in Pawnee,” She says. This whole meeting-up-outside-of-the-library thing was obviously a mistake. She slides out of the booth, throwing her napkin onto the faded naugahyde, “I have a running tab. Don’t worry about the bill,” She says, a glare pulled across her brow, “Leave whenever, I don’t care. Goodbye, Ben.”</p><p>She storms out of JJ’s. Never in her life has she left JJ’s angry. Not once, never. Waffles meant happiness, not rage. Damn Ben and his incessant number-crunching-personality ruining perfectly good things. Damn him. He watches with an anxious expression as she storms out, turning with a glare toward Ben as the door shuts behind her. </p><p>She should’ve known better than to think that she could get along with somebody that voluntarily goes to libraries. There had to be a catch, there always was. Damn Libraries. </p><p>Ben doesn’t stay to eat the food, no matter how legendarily delicious his pancakes supposedly were. He wouldn’t have been able to stomach them anyway. He pays for their meals despite her running tab, it’s the least he could do. </p><p>As he walks out, JJ glares at him from the front desk and Ben swears he hears a teenage waiter say something profane about him before the door shuts with a ding. Leslie really did mean a lot to that place. Ben isn’t even a little bit surprised.</p><p>By the time Ben makes it to the parking lot, Leslie’s already peeled out of it, leaving skid marks in her wake like racing stripes left on the tar.</p><p>/////</p><p>“I’m so stupid,” Leslie says when Ann picks up her phone.</p><p>“Lunch was that bad?”</p><p>“It was terrible,” Leslie slams her head against her steering wheel and groans loudly, stringing out the ‘r’ sound like gravel and cheap, grape taffy.</p><p>Ann winces sympathetically, “You wanna come over?”</p><p>“Ann, sweet Ann,” Leslie says with a sigh but blown of her usual gusto, “I’m already here.”</p><p>Ann’s used to that by now, hums affirmatively. Leslie can hear Ann unfolding herself from her couch and padding toward the freezer over the speaker phone, “I have ice cream. And alcohol. I have a lot of alcohol.”</p><p>“<i>Good</i>.” </p><p>Leslie hangs up and drags herself into Ann’s house, bemoaning her life every step of the way.</p><p>/////</p><p>“Did you talk to him, Leslie?”</p><p>“You know I didn’t.”</p><p>It’s yet another phone call on yet another day. </p><p>Not once has Leslie stopped thinking about the Ben situation. It sucks. She had actually liked him.</p><p>Ann sighs, “I have to get to work.”</p><p>“People are annoying,” Leslie thinks aloud. She’s not really sure if she’s telling Ann or herself. She’s sitting in her car in the library parking lot before work, head on the steering wheel in despair and Ann’s voice filtering through the cars’ speakers, “And everything sucks, too.”</p><p>“I hear ya,” Ann says, and she hangs up.</p><p>///////</p><p>Leslie shows up at city hall.</p><p>She isn’t supposed to be there, it’s part of her deal with Ron that she isn’t allowed to meddle in the parks business on government property while she’s working at the library or else the deal is off and Ron will ensure that her Parks job is no longer waiting for her. Leslie deems this as special circumstances. She isn’t there for Parks business.</p><p>“Excuse me?” Leslie says, knocking tentatively on the door frame of the city manager’s office. </p><p>Inside, a man’s hanging upside down from his ankles, his tie falling over his face. He definitely isn’t Ben. There are more bottles of vitamins on the desk than she can count and skyscrapers constructed out of paperwork litter the room. Leslie briefly considers that she may be in the wrong room, possibly even the wrong building or some funky alternate dimension time hole thing. It’s weird, like deja vu or whiplash or maybe both at once. That could also just be the anxious feeling digging into her stomach, she isn’t sure. </p><p>The man hanging from his ankles looks overjoyed to see her, gracefully disengages himself from the awkward ankle contraption so that he’s standing on two feet, and smiles widely, “What can I do for you today, m’am?”</p><p>“I’m actually here to see Ben, um, Wyatt. Is he here? Am I in the right place?”</p><p>The ankle guy laughs, and it’d almost sound forced if it weren’t so painfully genuine, “You’re looking for good ol’ Benji, eh? You must be Leslie then. He’s told me a lot about you.”</p><p>Leslie dutifully ignores the way her insides clench at the idea of that. It’s a little too much for right now, so she works on counting the countless vitamin bottles. </p><p>“Is he around?”</p><p>“He should be back any minute. He just-”</p><p>“<i>Leslie</i>?”</p><p>“Speak of the Devil, eh?”</p><p>Ben looks just about terrified to step into the room, looking like a nervous animal stepping into a predator's habitat. They haven’t talked since the disaster at JJ’s and neither of them were particularly eager to pick up where they had left off. Leslie believed, however, that she had tortured herself over this whole thing long enough and she was gonna get her two cents in if it killed her. </p><p>“We should talk, Ben,” She tells him, and she can see his eyes darting around the room as if he’s trying to find an escape. Leslie has conveniently taken up post just to the right of the room’s only door, making it an ineffectual exit. </p><p>Eventually, he nods, “Yeah. We should.”</p><p>Neither make a move to say anything. The ankle guy is buzzing with inexplicable excitement. He’s watching two people confront the conversation they’ve been dreading for the longest time and he’s standing there smiling. Leslie finds it weirdly… comforting. </p><p>“Hey, Chris?” Ben asks quietly, “Could you, um, give us the room?”</p><p>Chris cocks his head to the side, looking briefly like a confused, weirdly athletic puppy, before he smiles warmly, “You’ve got it, Benny Boy. I’m gonna go take a brief jog. I’ll be back soon, I’m only gonna do a 5k.”</p><p>Chris shuts the door behind him. </p><p>“Did he say <i>brief </i>5k?”</p><p>“Yeah, he’s a little insane. Thinks he’s gonna live to 100, perfect human something or other. I wouldn’t put it past him.”</p><p>“I should introduce him to Ann.”</p><p>“Ann?”</p><p>“My best friend, she’s the perfect model of humankind.”</p><p>“Well in that case I’m sure they’re meant to be.”</p><p>They’re supposed to be arguing. None of this easy, natural conversation. Ben Wyatt represented the tangible being that was about to slash everything she loved about government into ineffectual shreds. </p><p>“Look,” Leslie snaps, “We don’t like each other. Two sides of the same coin and all that. We’re not gonna get along and we know that so really we need to just pretend none of the library or JJ’s stuff ever happened, okay? I’m just the really cool girl that keeps emailing you and you’re the obnoxious guy that’s ruining the government, okay?”</p><p>It’s the most blunt approach possible. Classic Leslie. Somehow, it still feels wrong. </p><p>Ben looks like he hesitates, a bundle of words trapped in his mouth like a frog that swallowed a dictionary, then his shoulders drop and he nods, “You’re right,” He says, quiet and sure, “It was all a mistake, right? We’re diametrically opposed. It was just some weird coincidences.”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>It doesn’t feel so good. </p><p>“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Leslie says, hastily backing out of the office, “I have to write a very strongly worded email to a pesky state auditor who claims that Ramset Park’s fertilizer budget is not necessary spending.”</p><p>When Chris jogs back into the room, Ben’s been working on paperwork for ten minutes already.</p><p>Chris isn’t even kind of out of breath, “Leslie left?”</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“Oh,” Chris says, taking a daunting handful of vitamins and swallowing them all down in one go, “I thought she would’ve still been here.”</p><p>Ben can’t peel his eyes away from the paperwork in front of him when he shakes his head, “No,” He says, “She wasn’t here long.”</p><p>Chris keeps talking, but Ben’s too busy reviewing the Parks and Rec expenditure reports. </p><p>/////// </p><p>In the following weeks, Leslie doesn’t see Ben at the library anymore. He must’ve stopped going- which is good for him in Leslie’s book. Or if he kept going there he was at the very least avoiding her. Which was fine by Leslie. Really. They’d agreed and all. </p><p>She’s in the young adult section when April sneaks up on her. </p><p>“Jesus,” Leslie hisses, her voice at a hoarse whisper. There’s a group of high school students taking an ACT in the room next door and Leslie may not respect the library but she sure as hell respects high school students that are trying to do their best, “<i>You scared me, April</i>.”</p><p>April just picks at her nails. </p><p>“What are you doing here?”</p><p>April pierces Leslie with a stare, foreboding and dark and punctuated by the heavy eyeliner that Leslie always tells her she doesn’t need, “You’re sad, Leslie,” April accuses, “It’s annoying.”</p><p>Leslie stutters. </p><p>“Wha- no- I- am not- how would you even-“</p><p>April crosses her arms. </p><p>“Why would you say something like that?”</p><p>April taps her foot.</p><p>“So what if I am? Am I not allowed to be sad every once in awhile? Your weird friend Orin is sad all the time, and I’m not allowed?” Leslie’s pretty proud of that one. She really doesn’t like Orin.</p><p>“That’s different,” April responds pointedly, “Orin’s angsty, not sad. Plus, he’s an artist. Artists are allowed to brood.”</p><p>“Well what if I take up painting, huh? There’s that new wine and paint place in Muncie that Ann wanted to drag me to. If I go, then can I be angsty or sad or whatever you’re calling it?”</p><p>“That’s not real art, Leslie,”</p><p>“I’m sorry, April, but I’d hardly call what Orin does ‘art’. His last show was a ten hour video of him sitting in a McDonalds.”</p><p>April looks disappointed. </p><p>“Leslie, that wasn’t the point of the exhibit. You just didn’t get it,” She says, “<i>This </i>wasn’t the point.”</p><p>Leslie just pouts. </p><p>April sighs and takes a step back, “Fine. Whatever. I’ll be at the parks office when you decide to get your head back on straight.”</p><p>Leslie watches April disappear between the shelves. To spite the world, she knocks over a particularly large stack of paperbacks and doesn’t pick them back up. </p><p>///////</p><p>“Leslie, are you sure you don’t want to come hiking with us?” Andy asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet and whining like an overexcited puppy, “It’s gonna be really, really, really, really, <i>realllllly </i>fun!”</p><p>Leslie forces a smile, “Sorry, Andy, But I cant stay. I have to be at the library in an hour. I’m only here to say hello.”</p><p>Andy narrows his eyes on her like he does when he’s pretending to be a secret agent, “Are you sure?”</p><p>“Yes, Andy. I’m sure.”</p><p>“I know you’ve been feeling weird lately,” He says, circling her like she was some sort of poorly constructed subject, and god what was she some sort of emotional science experiment? Did everybody know how she had been feeling?</p><p>“Thanks for the offer, but I’m good.”</p><p>As easy as he’d fallen into the faux prowl, Andy snaps out of it, rolling his shoulders back and bouncing excitedly on his toes again, “Oh well,” He says, “Your loss. More hot dogs for me! Bye, Leslie! Have fun at work!”</p><p>She works at the library. There is no world in which she was about to have fun. </p><p>////////</p><p>At night, she surrounds herself with her binders, an enveloping eclipse of ideas laid out around her on her living room floor like some Leslie Knope version of an indoor crop circle, hailing to her fellow idea aliens. She surrounds herself with ideas and solutions to her problems and dutifully ignores the library book on the table. He’d given it to her. </p><p>Against her better judgement, she picks up her phone and calls him one night. </p><p>She should’ve deleted his number from her phone weeks ago. She never could quite get herself to do it. Just in case, she’d told herself, for blackmail or something. The phone rings three times before he picks up.</p><p>“Um, hello?” Ben grumbles when he puts the receiver to his face. His voice is an octave lower than normal, cracked with sleep. Leslie finds it disgustingly attractive. </p><p>“Hey, Ben. It’s Leslie Knope from the Parks Department and the, um, <i>library</i>.”</p><p>He pauses, makes a small groan as he shuffles around in his bed, clicks on the light beside his bed, “Leslie,” He says patiently, “Do you have any idea what time it is?”</p><p>“Late?”</p><p>“Yeah. It’s pretty late. It’s 3 in the morning,” He audibly tries not to get testy, “Why are you calling me at three in the morning?”</p><p>“I- I don’t know,” She tells him because it’s the truth, and it really is three in the morning. It’s all she can really give him, but it sounds like he gets it.</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>They stay on the line for a few moments in silence. They never really knew each other all that well in the first place and she really does hate everything he stands for, but they haven’t talked in so long. It feels weird and good and familiar and Leslie can’t remember why she called in the first place. </p><p>“I should go,” She says suddenly, and it isn’t long enough but it’s all too much, “Good night, Ben,” She says and hangs up abruptly. </p><p>He’s still there in his bedroom half a minute later, mostly asleep and holding the phone to his ear in the dark. Everything’s confusing between them and he kinda hates it. He’s never had… <i>this </i>before.</p><p>“Good night, Leslie,” Ben says into the darkness of his bedroom, even though she hasn’t been able to hear him for a whole minute now. It feels good to say it anyway. </p><p>Leslie scribbles down another note in a binder and tries not to think about Ben.</p><p>Later, they’ll both pretend that call never happened.</p><p>//////</p><p>Work still sucks, of course. She works at the library, for Pistol Pete’s sake, the best it really gets is ‘mostly-miserable’, But she’s Leslie Knope- she persists. </p><p>There’s a week left when Leslie really starts to feel the weight of going back to her own department, her own office. She’s getting real tired of all this alphabetisation bs, she wants some good old fashioned spreadsheets on the costs of various grass fertilizers, a couple of frivolous complaints from Pawneeans with a grudge. </p><p>She’s begrudgingly shelving a cart of science fiction books and graphic novels when one of Tammy’s minions stumble her way.</p><p>“Well, well, well,” The mistress of satan sings, voice high and grating, “What’s forest girl up to now?”</p><p>“I’m working, Meredith,” Leslie deflects sharply, eyes on the science fiction section with authors La-Le, “Much like you probably should be right about now.”</p><p>“Who says I’m not, huh?”</p><p>Leslie knows she’s up to something no-good. She’s a librarian, it’s not a huge leap, and the way she makes her voice all sweet and innocent is like a big, black dog creeping between the shelves. </p><p>There’s only ever a few times Leslie hears the librarians use that voice- when they’re absolutely smashed at the work Christmas party, when they’re trying to sweet talk attractive patrons at the reference desk, and when they’re up to no damn good. In this case, Leslie’s pretty sure it’s the most latter answer as she neither smells alcohol nor is a six foot four chiseled stripper/gas station employee named Chad. Nonetheless, she keeps her eyes dutifully trained on the books and thinks about all her favorite spots at Ramset Park, daydreams about her big ideas for saving the Parks department, and concocts a fantastic prank to retaliate Ron that will definitely work as Meredith continues to harass her. </p><p>Her hands are in distractingly tight, unrelenting fists at her sides, and her eyes are continuously scanning the shelf in front of her when Meredith finally shuts up. </p><p>“Excuse me,” A voice breaks into Meredith’s rant, hard outside of its manners, “Are you bothering this nice woman?”</p><p>Leslie’s pulling her eyes away from the shelf to tell the stranger that she can handle herself when she realizes she recognizes that voice. As if in slow motion, she realizes that she recognizes those shiny leather shoes, the tight-fitting, reworn trousers, and the skinny black tie, too. </p><p>Much to her own chagrin, Leslie finds herself at a loss for words. </p><p>Ben’s face is schooled into a serious, protective glare.</p><p>Meredith fails to pick up on both Leslie’s surprise and Ben’s stubbornness. Luckily, she’s too lazy to deal with a foolhearted patron when she could be gossiping about Leslie at the reference desk instead. </p><p>The librarian scoffs haughtily, pushes lazily at Leslie’s cart, then marches away without anything more than a muttered, “<i>Whatever</i>.”</p><p>That leaves Leslie and Ben standing there, alone and staring and in each other’s physical presence for the first time since JJ’s. Leslie is suddenly struck with a hope that Ben will speak again, that she’ll get to hear his voice again. Instead, they just look at each other until Leslie finds her own voice, pulls the wheeled cart close to her body. </p><p>“I was handling that, you know,” She snaps, and she doesn’t mean it. She’s thankful. It’s simply her default. Weirdly, somewhere inside himself, Ben understands. </p><p>“I know,” He tells her, eyes filling his face, “You don’t need me- you don’t need anyone, Leslie, I know that- but I saw you and I- I couldn’t help it. I had to step in.”</p><p>Leslie doesn’t say another word. Just watches him, like he’s her prey or maybe someone else’s. </p><p>“I’m sorry. I should go.”</p><p>“Wait!”</p><p>Ben turns around, his hand lifts to hold onto a shelf. His finger happens to land right next to the science fiction series she knows he likes, but he doesn’t so much as glance at it, just looks down at her with his big, inquiring eyes. She stares at the way his hand grips the shelf longer than she means to. Her grip on the cart isn’t loose anymore.</p><p>“Thank you,” She grates out, as stubborn as ever, though she somehow means it with every fiber of her being, “I appreciate it, Ben.”</p><p>He smiles, and Leslie realizes right there why she did it. For that smile.</p><p>“No problem. See you around, Leslie.”</p><p>Leslie watches as Ben disappears into the labyrinth of DVDs across the way. </p><p>The next time one of Tammy’s minions try to harass her, there’s a small part of Leslie that almost goads them on in hopes that Ben will come to save the day again. Not that she needs him. He doesn’t happen to show up, but the thought warms her more than Leslie would like to admit. </p><p>The next time, she laughs in the face of Linda the Hell Demon. </p><p>////</p><p>April and Andy and Tom and Jerry throw Leslie a welcome back party. Ron locks himself in his office, but Leslie sees the way the corners of his lips bend into his moustache when he thinks they’re all too distracted by the big white cake. </p><p>Andy all but tackles Leslie in a bear hug and Tom looks about ready to kiss Leslie on the mouth he’s so relieved she’s back. Tom shakes Leslie with his iron grip around her upper arms. </p><p>“Never leave again, Leslie,” He practically begs, eyes vibrating with frantic energy, “I wasn’t built for paperwork. I’m too pretty for it. Don’t leave me alone with all this work ever again. <i>Please</i>.”</p><p>Leslie pats at the top of Tom’s head. He doesn’t even say a word about the state of his hair, he’s so anxious. Leslie smiles, watches as April helps Andy shove an entire piece of cake into his mouth in one bite.</p><p>“Don’t worry, Tom,” Leslie says, watches as Terry curses and wipes at a frosting stain on his khakis, as Ron stares mostly stoically at his wall. She smiles, “I’m not planning on leaving any time soon.”</p><p>The party’s nice. Ann shows up with her famous better-when-it’s-spiked fruit punch, and Leslie hasn’t been this happy in so long. Leslie goads Andy and April into an impromptu game of tape-the-piece-of-paper to the Terry. </p><p>Leslie’s snort-laughing at Terry’s dejected response to Andy accidentally poking him in the ear when she meets Chris Traeger for the first time. Or rather for the first time <i>properly</i>- as herself, Deputy Director of the Parks department Leslie Knope, not the girl who can’t stop thinking about his coworker. When Chris enters the room, his excitement is like flicking a cigarette at a fireworks surplus pile, boundless and bright, blinding.  </p><p>“What’s the Park Department celebrating on this fine day?” Chris beams as he bounces toward the semicircle they have formed around Terry’s cake stain. </p><p>Leslie can’t help it, this guy is so bright and cheery in an otherwise beige-on-beige building full of grumpy, khaki-wearing, sad people, she beams right back, “We’re celebrating my return to the parks department. I’m Leslie Knope. How can I help you?”</p><p>“Oh,” Chris says and his smile doesn’t falter for so much as a split second but he still somehow comes off as surprised as he beams, “I’m Chris Traeger. State auditor.”</p><p>Leslie’s smile falls into a glare. She remembers him as upside-down smiley man.</p><p>“You work with Ben.”</p><p>Chris doesn’t seem to notice the way Leslie’s shoulders bend in towards the rest of her body, apparently forgotten the last time they met, “You’ve met Ben!” He cheers happily, “Isn't he the greatest?”</p><p>Leslie doesn’t answer, but luckily Ann, beautiful Ann, has approximately 30 too many voice mails sitting in her phone about this very topic. She steps between Leslie and this new stranger who has the potential to destroy everything Leslie loves, a smile pasted across her face and a hand outstretched, “I’m Ann Perkins. How about we get you some punch, yeah?”</p><p>Chris’s eyes light up as he follows her. Something about perfect humans drifts through Leslie’s mind, and she earmarks the thought for later, files it somewhere way back between her thoughts of Ben and More Ben. </p><p>Leslie’s turning to join in on Donna and Tom’s mocking of Jerry, a smile on her face, grateful to have dodged a conversation she truly dreaded, when somebody knocks at the open door leading out of the parks department and into the rest of city hall. She feels everything inside of her drop. </p><p>Ben enters the office, at least has the courtesy to move in slowly, obviously prepared to be thrown out, but Leslie just watches him nervously. </p><p>“I, uh, heard you came back, Leslie,” He says as he approaches her. Leslie can hear April and Andy whispering incessantly behind her (April offers to murder him, which Leslie thinks is very sweet but also unnecessary and slightly concerningly violent), “Congrats on surviving your term at the library.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Leslie says coolly, Ann appearing at her elbow, “You didn’t think I could?” </p><p>There’s this sad look that crosses Ben’s face, and Leslie immediately regrets what she said. But then he smiles and shakes his head, “No, no, Ms. Knope, there was never a doubt in my mind that you could do it.”</p><p>Leslie’s throat feels tight, and she isn’t sure how to respond, not in the slightest, not when his eyes are big and sad and earnest and Leslie’s stomach feels like Ron’s Boy Scouts had tied it into every knot they knew. But luckily Leslie has Ann, beautiful, genius Ann, who wraps a gentle hand around Leslie’s bicep and smiles up at Ben and says, “She has some welcome back gifts to open now. I’m gonna have to take her.”</p><p>And Leslie exhales in relief as Ben nods, forcing a smile, “Of course, of course. I’ll get out of your hair. I’m sure a state auditor is the last thing you want to see right now,” <i>It’s not. She wants to see him. She wants to see him and only him and she never wants to hear the words state auditor ever again, but she can’t do anything about it. </i>Leslie watches him pull Chris away from an enrapturing chat with Andy, “Come on, Chris. Let’s let them celebrate. We’ll have a meeting first thing on Monday. See you then.”</p><p>Chris animatedly exults the Parks staff all the way down the hall to his office. </p><p>“And that Ann was just so nice!”</p><p>///</p><p>She visits him, at the end of the day, finds her feet guiding her to his office practically against her own free will. She raps against the doorframe and leans into the plasticy oak as he turns around.</p><p>“Leslie,” He gasps out, nearly spilling a massive pile of paperwork in his surprise. He manages to maneuver the pile safely onto a nearby desk, “What are you doing here?”</p><p>She shrugs. Even Leslie knows that she’s not usually this quiet. Ben narrows his eyes at her, but Leslie can’t help but notice that he makes sure to keep his distance. </p><p>“Thought I’d check out the competition one last time before I bring hell down on you Monday.”</p><p>Ben quickly adopts what can only be called a shit-eating grin, “And when you say <i>check out</i>, do you mean-“</p><p>Leslie feels her cheeks burn, “I meant I was staking it out so I’d know exactly where to go when I needed to raise some hell.”</p><p>“Ah, yes,” Ben says, still grinning, “The classic raising hell excuse. Of course.”</p><p>“I’m being serious.”</p><p>“Mhm.”</p><p>“Now that I don’t work at the library, you have no idea what’s coming for you. I’m gonna make your life-“</p><p>“Hey, Leslie?” He cuts her off, and she hadn’t even noticed the way he had slowly crossed the room, “Shut up for a second.”</p><p>And he kisses her. Right there. In his office. In the very spot where she fully intends to raise hell starting Monday. One of his hands finds it way to her neck, curling softly into her hair, while the other hand holds her at her waist, supporting her from moving away in the shock of it all. And well- Leslie figures the hell raising doesn’t have to start until Monday after all, so she leans into it, her own hands helpless to do anything but find the spots at his sides where they fit so well, pulling him ever so much closer. The next thing Leslie knows, she’s making out with her sworn nemesis in a municipal building. </p><p>She pulls away reluctantly, a firm grip around his biceps, chest heaving, when reality crashes down on her. Her eyes go wide, “Uh-oh. This- uh- this can’t happen. Ben, I should go.”</p><p>He nods silently, and it’s eerie, his eyes are dark and earnest and she wants to stay here forever but she has a million thoughts in her head and a lump in her throat and she does what she does best: gets the hell out of there as fast as she can.</p><p>It’s not until she’s well far and gone that Ben curses to the empty outer office, and kicks at the lousy, mocking doorframe. He would rather never admit how much it hurt- the kicking of course, not the running away. Of course. </p><p>////</p><p>She’s still up at 5am that Sunday night, not able to sleep a wink. Too many thoughts. Two days later and she still has the feeling of his fingers curling into her hair seared into her like a touch memory. And so she figures, in the comfort of her own home, she can indulge herself in a little harmless research. </p><p>Leslie pulls her laptop out of her bedside drawer and opens up her Human Resources contract. She rereads the portion that bans superiors from dating anybody below them (i.e: a government-hired state auditor and say, a deputy director of a parks department). </p><p>She thought it’d be comforting to know the exact rules. It usually is. In this instance, it just makes Leslie feel all the more uneasy. </p><p>So she calls Ann. </p><p>Ann picks up on the fifth ring (Leslie always waits, she’s patient like that). </p><p>“Leslie, do you know what time it is?”</p><p>“5am.”</p><p>“I’m supposed to work today.”</p><p>“Hey, me too!”</p><p>Ann sighs, sounding groggy and distracted, “Leslie, what do you want?”</p><p>“Ben kissed me.”</p><p>Suddenly Ann sounds<i> wide </i>awake, “He <i>what?”</i></p><p>“Or Well, I guess in his defense, he wasn’t the only one kissing. I was present, and I guess I did kiss him back, so.”</p><p>“<i>Leslie-</i>“</p><p>“But there’s a rule about dating anybody who works above you in the government. You’re not allowed. So we’d both probably lose our jobs if something were to, you know, happen. And Ann, I love my job, so nothing could.”</p><p>“Oh, honey,” Ann coos over the phone. Leslie can imagine her perfectly: sitting up in her bed, her comforter with the lemon patterns tucked around her hips as she cradles the phone in her right hand, her forehead buried in her left, “I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Leslie breathes out, and it feels like either a mantra or a lie, “I’m supposed to hate him anyway.”</p><p>Ann hums supportively into her speaker, “Do you want me to come over, sweetie?”</p><p>Leslie thinks about it. Ann’s always able to cheer her up, “No,” Leslie decides, “Like I said, I’m fine. I just- wanted to talk about it for a minute. Good night, Ann.”</p><p>Ann doesn’t sound quite convinced, but she says her goodbye anyway, “Everything’s gonna be okay, Leslie. I promise. Love you. Get some sleep, okay?”</p><p>When Leslie’s alarm goes off at 7:30, she’s still wide awake, laying in her bed and staring at the ceiling. </p><p>She considers just staying in her bed for the rest of her life and avoiding all of her problems. That would be nice. But Leslie has some hell raising to do. She gets out of bed, one foot at a time, hauling herself out tiredly and dreaming of coffee drenched in sugar and cream.</p><p>/// </p><p>Life continues for Leslie as it always does. She gets out of bed every day, goes to work, dutifully avoids making eye contact with Ben, and does her damnedest to save money for the Parks department. </p><p>The moment that Ron appointed her as the representative for the Parks department, she knew she would be able to really throw herself into her work, raise hell like never before. </p><p>And then somehow, her world slowly starts to open back up again. Somehow. Sure her budget’s slashed, and layoffs still loom over every department like the ghost of state auditors’ past, but it also means that Ben will be leaving soon and Leslie can get him out of her head, can go back to her simple life of worrying about how much fertilizer to order instead of how cute Ben’s butt looks in those pants and how to most effectively avoid him at all costs. </p><p>She’s at JJ’s waiting for her waffles to come out when Ann calls her, and Leslie swears that the world surely has something against her. Leslie doesn’t generally believe in karma or cosmic payback, but divine intervention is the only possible explanation as to why this would happen to Leslie. The patron saint of state auditing must have a vendetta against her or something. </p><p>“Hey, Ann-O-Banann-O,” Leslie answers her phone with a mere glance at the caller ID, “What’s up?”</p><p>Ann doesn’t bother with platitudes, voice hurried and insistent, “Did you hear about Chris and Ben?”</p><p>Leslie furrows her brows, “No. What happened?”</p><p>“They aren’t leaving.”</p><p>Leslie feels her stomach drop, “What?”</p><p>“Yeah, apparently the mayor offered Chris the city manager position, and he took it. Ben’s supposed to be his assistant.”</p><p>Leslie’s uncharacteristically quiet. </p><p>“Hey, uh, Leslie? You still there?”</p><p>“Yeah, sorry, just- that’s a lot to deal with for me right now.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, babe. Ice cream at my place?”</p><p>“I’ll bring waffles.”</p><p>“Does this call for a Jennifer Aniston movie marathon?”</p><p>Leslie sighs, “Yeah, I think it does.”</p><p>Ann coos her sympathy, “Marley and Me will be in the DVD player when you get to my house. Rumor Has It will be on deck for after, and I’ll make sure I have hot fudge this time.”</p><p>“You’re the best, Ann.”</p><p>“See you soon. You just hang in there, okay?” Ann says, and hangs up. </p><p>Leslie waves her waitress over, “Hey, Kelly. Change of plans. Can I get the waffles to go?”</p><p>Leslie can’t tell if she’s making it up or not, but almost feels like there’s pity in Kelly’s familiar smile as she clutches onto her notebook and nods, “Sure thing, Leslie. I’ll let the kitchen know right now.”</p><p>////</p><p>A night wallowing over her absolutely sucky love life seems to help Leslie even more than she had expected. She wakes up the next morning, curses the state auditing gods, and gets out of bed. Rinse and repeat. </p><p>She comes to terms with it. Now that he isn’t out to get her fertilizer money, she can’t exactly call him her nemesis anymore. Now he’s just the guy she can’t date. She still avoids running into him at all costs. </p><p>“Leslie!” He Calls out cheerfully, jogging towards her from the opposite end of the hallway. </p><p>Eyes wide and heart racing, she slips into the nearest office and shuts the door behind her. It’s cheap and cowardly, but it’s easier than putting on a smile and saying hello. </p><p>Turns out it’s a sanitation office. </p><p>There’s a creep with a moustache behind the desk. He takes one look at her, and winks.</p><p> Leslie curses whatever bureaucratic deities that are listening for the millionth time. They’re obviously punishing her for stepping foot in the library. Haunted land. Her own fault, but still. </p><p>“Uh, sorry, wrong office,” Leslie says quickly, and she spins around so fast, opens and shuts the door, that it leaves a hollow bang echoing through the hallway. Ben is nowhere to be found. </p><p>///</p><p>It takes time, a lot of narrowly avoided run-ins, and a lot of JJ’s takeout, but after awhile Leslie is able to get over Ben. In fact, she starts to consider him a friend again. There was a time when she was working at the library where he was the light in the dark, dark tunnel of dusty books. She wants to be friends with him. </p><p>The Harvest Festival helps with that. </p><p>“I’m really excited about this, Ben,” She says, as he leans over her shoulder at her desk to look down at the vintage fliers she’s mocked up, “I really think this could bring in a lot of revenue.”</p><p>He hums wordlessly, and she weirdly… understands. At some point unbeknownst to her, she was able to translate Ben-English into Leslie-English. She nods in agreement.</p><p>“I have it all worked out, I promise. I really think it’ll work.”</p><p>“This is gonna take a lot of money to pull together.”</p><p>She’s nodding again, and it feels like the inside of her head is a snow globe, each fleck of glitter a different, sparkling idea to better her community. He leans closer to peer at the spreadsheets next to her posters, and soon he’s nodding too. </p><p>“I can, uh, I’ll help you out. With anything you need, Leslie.”</p><p>She can’t help but beam, “This is going to be fantastic, Ben. I’m telling you.”</p><p>///</p><p>It’s the last night of the Harvest festival, the fireworks are exploding in the distance, and the whole thing turned out to be a roaring success. Ben and Leslie now have an Official Cool Friends handshake, and that’s when Leslie finds out Ben’s been dating somebody. </p><p>They do their- <i>awesome</i>- handshake, say goodnight to the last couple throngs of visitors left on the fairground, teenagers who dutifully ignore the parks department’s friendly farewell and a group of exhausted moms with squealing kids stuck in sugar rush mode. </p><p>“Wanna get some JJ’s?” Leslie asks, an unstoppable smile on her face. She herself is feeling like one of those kindergarteners who ate too much cotton candy. She feels like she’s not going to be able to sleep for two weeks. She bounces from one foot to the other, “JJ told me I get free waffles for the next two weeks.”</p><p>Ben smiles, and for a brief second she thinks: <i>finally, everything’s okay. This can be normal. </i>But then his smile cracks, and his shoulders cave in and his hands are twisting inward to grab at his wrists in this awkward concave reaction.</p><p>“Uh, I can’t. I actually have plans.”</p><p>Leslie laughs, because her brain hasn’t quite caught up to her body which hasn’t quite caught up to Ben’s tense body language. She glances at her phone, “It’s after midnight. Who could you possibly have plans with?”</p><p>“My, uh, girlfriend actually,” Ben says, rubbing shyly at the back of his neck. Leslie freezes.</p><p>“<i>Girlfriend?</i>”</p><p>“Yeah, we’ve been seeing each other for about a month now. I didn’t mention her because I, uh-“</p><p>“No, no. I get it. It’s fine. Totally fine. You do you, Ben. That’s fine. All good,” Leslie’s fight or flight instincts start to take effect. Her eyes dart around her like a wild animal, and she can hear Ben making excuses and apologies but she isn’t able to process his words over the thumping of her heart in her ears. She starts to take large steps backwards, arms waving vaguely and eyes darting, “I have to go check on, uh, Ann. She mentioned she would need help at the first aid tent. Something about overzealous Italian daredevils. I should, uh- <i>bye!</i>”</p><p>And with that, Leslie flees. </p><p>///</p><p>She’s at JJ’s the next morning when he ambushes her. For somebody dutifully ignoring a person, it was her own fault to go someplace that she frequents so regularly, but still. </p><p>Even after Ben had very clearly made eye contact with her from the unmanned hostess’s stand and was making a beeline toward her booth, she pulled her blazer shoulders high up over her ears, hoping to hide among the naugahyde like all the creatures from the muppet movie hiding in one, big trench coat. She wasn’t quite as lucky as a celebrity frog tends to be. Ben slid into the booth facing her. </p><p>Leslie notes, with a twisted sense of angry irony, that this just so happens to be the same both that they were seated in when they first declared one another nemeses.</p><p>“Ben,” Leslie says curtly as he crosses his arms professionally over the table. She stabs violently at a syrup-laden glob of waffle. </p><p>He nods politely, “Leslie. We need to talk.”</p><p>She only talks after she already has a mouthful of waffles, and she shakes her head, “Bou wha? Don’t think we ‘ave anything to talk about. All s’good. ‘Romise.”</p><p>Ben raises an eyebrow. Leslie finds herself wishing she could call over the waitress and ask for another waffle- this one’s disappearing much too quick- but Kelly is nowhere in sight.</p><p>“You got weird yesterday when I said I had a girlfriend,” Leslie visibly tenses, “I think you’d like Shauna if you got to know her.”</p><p>“I don’t think I would,” Leslie says way too fast. She all but bares her teeth. Ben frowns. </p><p>“Oh, come on, Leslie. I know you know why we can’t- <i>be together</i>.”</p><p>“Chris’s rules,” Leslie supplies automatically, stabbing at a chunk of waffle extra violently, “Yes, I know.”</p><p>“Then why can’t we just be friends? This is ridiculous. We love our jobs too much. I’m not gonna ruin all the hard work that got you to where you are today. I couldn’t do that to you. We need to move on.”</p><p>Leslie knows that. She seriously, seriously does. She’s told herself those same exact words a million and one times falling asleep at night, walking through city hall, sitting in meetings. Hell, those words are practically on repeat in her head. It doesn’t make things any easier. </p><p>The next thing she knows her waffle is gone, and while Leslie would love another plateful (this time with extra syrup), she takes her chance to wiggle her way out of the conversation. She fishes through her purse for her wallet, pulls out a twenty, slaps it onto the table, and slides out of the booth as fast as she can.</p><p>“I have to get to work,” She says, turns on her heel and gets the hell out of there. </p><p>Ben rushes to follow her, pants sticking on the fake leather and slowing him down. JJ glares at him from the hostess’s stand as he races past. </p><p>“It’s Saturday!” He calls after her in the parking lot, hands thrown in the air, “I know you don’t have work!”</p><p>She shoots her own glare at him, hands actively fishing through her oversized purse for her car keys, “You know as well I do that the work of the Parks department is never over.”</p><p>She can’t seem to find her keys. He intentionally leans against her car door anyway, so even if she did find her keys she’d have to jostle him out of the way to get in. </p><p>“Come on, Les,” He says softly, entreating any honest response out of her. She stops searching for the keys and crosses her arms. He misses her, “Just talk to me.”</p><p>“No. <i>No, </i>Ben. You don’t get to <i>Les </i>me. I-“ She takes a deep, steadying breath, “Don’t you understand that seeing you with anybody else makes me want to curse the world. Ben, I’d rather work another year at the library than listen to you talk about your new girlfriend. I hate it.”</p><p>Ben’s eyes go big, and Leslie can feel her stomach start to roll like she shoved it in one of the rock tumblers her dad had bought her when she was a kid. <i>Ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump.</i>.</p><p>“Do you really mean that?”</p><p>Leslie’s fists clench at her sides, “God, Ben. Yes, I do. I’m sorry if that bothers you. Trust me, I know it’s stupid. But, seriously, I just-“</p><p>He kisses her. </p><p>There, in the parking lot. Seriously. He kisses her. </p><p>And she feels, she feels- god she feels like everything makes sense again. It’s ridiculous. She feels like crying her eyes out, but she also feels like smiling so much that her face gets permanently stuck with her lips upturned, teeth showing, cheeks full. </p><p>She finally manages to press two hands against his chest and pushes away. She hates that she’s breathless, “What the hell was that?”</p><p>“That was- something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time.”</p><p><i>Me too</i>, Leslie thinks, like a stab to the heart.</p><p>“I thought we decided we couldn’t do this, Ben. That was the plan. We had a plan. Just friends. We’re supposed to move on.”</p><p>Ben shrugs, eyes on the weird rhombus shape of asphalt between their pointed feet, “You’re right. It  isn’t working. I think about you all the time, Leslie. Maybe this- maybe this thing’s worth it.”</p><p>Leslie feels her heart catch on her breath in her throat, “Really?”</p><p>This isn’t a Leslie Knope kind of situation. Leslie does spreadsheets devoted to wholesale fertilizer prices and pro and con lists for her weekend plans. Leslie’s made a new five year plan every four years of her life since she was in the third grade so as to always ensure she’s on track. Caution and wind aren’t really in her vernacular. But right about now she’s feeling like throwing one into the other. </p><p>Ben nods, “Yeah. Let’s do this.”</p><p>Leslie kisses him again, her body framed against her car, terrified and full. There’s probably a book about something like this at the library. Maybe she’ll check it out and not return it, just because.</p>
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